


the way you laid your eyes on me (in ways that no one ever could)

by girlsarewolves



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Brief Smut, F/F, Femslash, Implied/Referenced Past Relationships, Infidelity, Non-Graphic Smut, Pining, set while Oliver is in prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21529321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlsarewolves/pseuds/girlsarewolves
Summary: And she smiles at you, and you think, ‘It has to be for me. Not a ghost.’ And she always was the one who very clearly saw you as someone else, as someone who clearly was not their Laurel. She was the one that suspected from the start.So it has to be for you.You tell yourself she’s off limits. Not interested, not available, not your type, you’re not hers.
Relationships: Earth-2 Laurel Lance/Felicity Smoak
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28





	the way you laid your eyes on me (in ways that no one ever could)

**Author's Note:**

> I never expected SmoakSiren to hit me like a ton of bricks, but, welp, here I am.

* * *

You tell yourself she’s off limits. You remind yourself over and over again that she’s married. To your late fiance’s doppelganger, no less. It would be tacky.

Probably more than a little petty.

But while you’re trying to play nice and be good, there’s still plenty of spite left in your soul that maybe being petty has an appeal. Maybe she has an appeal outside of being petty, too. Maybe you like the darkening shades of grey she’s letting in, even while you’re trying to pull her back from that darkness.

But you want to know what she tastes like between her thighs. And you want to know what she feels like on the inside. You’re dying to find out if she’s a screamer or a talker - how dirty can her mouth get when she’s hovering on the edge?

You wish the appeal of her was purely pettiness. 

You don’t like thinking about the genuine feelings. The real and frightening want of her that makes your chest clench when she encourages you or smiles at you or treats you like a friend. You don’t want to acknowledge the ache that accompanies the thought that maybe she’s seeing a ghost and not you. 

It was bad enough from the ghost of the man you loved, the angry and vicious and bitter man who is too rough and too hard to be your Ollie. 

When did this happen? You told yourself not to go soft. You told yourself not to go soft for anyone besides Quentin. Now you’re here, pretending to be the person you wish everyone would stop comparing you to. Now you’re here, bonding with the woman who took your doppelganger’s place - and somehow it went from Oliver Queen trying to convince you there’s something good in you to Felicity Smoak standing up on your behalf.

And she smiles at you, and you think, ‘It has to be for me. Not a ghost.’ And she always was the one who very clearly saw you as someone else, as someone who clearly was not their Laurel. She was the one that suspected from the start.

So it has to be for you.

You tell yourself she’s off limits. Not interested, not available, not your type, you’re not hers.

But you find yourself in her and Oliver’s bed while he’s behind bars, learning first hand just how dirty her mouth gets when she’s on the edge, finding out for yourself what she tastes like down between her legs. You get to know how slick and eager she can get when you’ve got her on her back and spread open, you come to know real well what she feels like on the inside.

You promise not to tell. You try to comfort her, say maybe her husband deserves a little bit of his own medicine. You make it clear you know it was a one time thing. You chalk it up to her repressed feelings for a ghost.

“Maybe,” she whispers. She’s looking right at you, staring at your face that’s damp with sweat and her sex. She meets your eyes and holds your gaze for an uncomfortably long silence. 

“Maybe not.”

Your chest clenches.

* * *


End file.
